


Moments

by jetsfanforlyfe



Category: Glee
Genre: Descriptions of Combat Violence, Descriptions of Severe Injuries, Gen, Hospital Setting, Klaine Reversebang 2013, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 19:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetsfanforlyfe/pseuds/jetsfanforlyfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt Hummel is a civilian nurse at an American military hospital overseas. Blaine Anderson is an injured, comatose soldier on Kurt’s ward. Inexplicably drawn to Blaine, Kurt finds himself befriending a young man who can’t even respond to him. Military!Klaine AU. Kurt/Blaine Reversebang 2013.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moments

**Author's Note:**

> I had an amazing time writing this for Carina's (ricoka) gorgeous art, and working with her to develop the idea for the story. All the thanks in the world to her for putting up with the crazy things that happened in my life and delayed some of the fic, and for being such a great partner :) Thanks also to the darling cupcakesdefygravity23 for the beta, and holytoetouchblaine for providing the incredibly inappropriate German, as well as all her encouragement ;) And thanks also to my tumblr cheerleaders, especially eightsidewalks <3

"Hummel!"

Kurt groans, plastering a smile on his face as he turns to face his supervisor, a petite woman nearly twice his age. He’s just come on the floor for the first hour of a twelve-hour shift, and he already has twp patients on his schedule, with one scheduled to be downgraded to the medical floor. It’s been an unusually quiet few weeks in the ICU, but Kurt’s thankful that they haven’t had any mass casualties recently.

“We’re probably getting a couple admits later today, something went down early this morning. They’re bringing in an entire unit, expecting at least three or four to be critical. Can you handle another patient?”

Kurt chews on his bottom lip for a moment, looking back at the board above the nurse’s station as he thinks, cataloguing his patients. He’s familiar with the cares all of his patients need, and doesn’t anticipate any serious issues on his shift. Turning back to his supervisor, he shrugs, grabbing a pen from the desk to scribble notes on the back of his hand.

“Shouldn’t be a problem. Do you know anything about the patients?”

“Nothing except that they’re coming in from Kabul. Roadside bomb on a routine pass-through. Medevac is coming in from Ramstein within the hour. We’ll get word from downstairs when we know more about the patients we’re getting. Until then, take care of the patients on your schedule and stay alert, okay?”

Kurt hums his assent, slipping the pen into the pocket of his top. She walks off to find one of the other nurses on shift, Katie, and leaves Kurt to finish getting ready for the day. He grabs a chair from the desk, sliding up in front of a computer and logging into the medical records program to access his charts. After a few clicks, Kurt pulls up the first chart on his schedule, scanning quickly for any notes taken by the night shift.

“Kurtsie!” a bright voice calls out behind him, seconds before its owner drapes her arms around Kurt’s chest, tucking her chin over his shoulder. “How’s it going on this fine, gorgeous morning?”

Kurt smiles, quickly brushing off the shock of being surprised and turns in his chair.

“It’s snowing outside, Sugar. I’d hardly call that gorgeous.”

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Sugar sing-songs, grabbing another chair and sitting on it backwards, sliding up next to Kurt.

“Someone’s heating stopped working at three in the morning,” Kurt quips in response, turning back to the computer and accessing his next chart.

“Tough break. Still haven’t managed to get your landlord to fix it?”  
“Since I barely speak a lick of German, our conversations tend to be limited to ‘hello’ and ‘I promise I’ll have the rent in on time this month.’”

Sugar laughs, leaning forward over the back of her chair as she watches Kurt pull up the chart, clicking through the night shift notes quickly and efficiently.

“You’ve been here how long now and you still can’t speak German?”

“Going on two and a half years, now. And we work in an American military hospital, I just never-”

“Found the time?” Sugar supplies, nodding. “I know how that goes.”

“Your father paid for you to have German lessons before he moved your family here, Sugar. I don’t think you do.”  
                      
“Touché. Listen, the real reason I came over here was to see if you wanted to come over for dinner tomorrow night. Rory’s making some kind of Irish stew and Artie promised his chocolate chip cookies.”

“Celebrating something?”

“Nothing special. Just an excuse for a bunch of us to unwind together.”

“Who else will be there?” Kurt asks distractedly, scribbling a few notes on a post-it off the chart he’s reading, closing it to open up his last one.

“Britt, Ryder, and, obviously, Tina.”

“Obviously,” Kurt snorts, logging out of the EMR client and replacing his pen in his pocket. “Since she lives with you.”

“You in, baby doll? It’s guaranteed to be warmer than your flat.”

Kurt pauses for a moment, spinning in his chair to face Sugar fully. She’s blinking at him with her best impression of a kicked puppy, her hands clasped under her chin as she frowns at him. He cracks a smile, shrugging.

“What time should I be there?”

“Excellent!” Sugar exclaims, throwing her arms around Kurt again and hugging him before bouncing to her feet. “Everyone’s coming over around 7, so anytime around that is fine.”

“Should I bring anything?”

“Just your adorable self,” Sugar replies, pecking Kurt on the cheek before turning to walk away, headed back to the pediatric intensive care unit. “Oh, and Kurt?”

“Hmm?” He’s distracted as he gathers his supplies to get ready to check on his first patient.

“ _Ich will deine gro_ _ße Nille in mir stecken,”_ Sugar says, completely serious as she does so. Kurt shakes his head at her, feigning exasperation.

“I have no idea what you just told me.”

“It’s a term of…. _affection_ ,” Sugar snickers, in a tone that makes Kurt all to certain it’s not. She blows him a kiss as she practically bounces away, tossing a quick “look it up, Kurt” in her wake.

Shaking his head, Kurt grabs his stethoscope and stops to wash his hands just outside room ten, smiling brightly as he enters.

“Good morning, Private Downey. How’s it feel knowing you’re getting sprung from here today?”

\- - - - -

As it turns out, Kurt only gains one patient on his schedule from the arriving casualties, a young Marine with a severe brain bleed. He helps transfer the new admissions, the ICU a flurry of activity for an hour and a half before everything calms down, letting him finish the admission paperwork on his newest patient.

He’s entering an updated set of vitals at the computer when the phone rings, startling him. Katie, who’s standing in front of the desk filling out paperwork, leans over and grabs it, waving Kurt off. He watches her for a moment as she bites her lip and nods, flipping over a blank sheet of paper and taking down notes. He’s just saving his records when Katie hangs up, running a hand through her hair in exasperation.

“What’s up?” Kurt asks, spinning in his chair to face her.

“That was Banks, over in SICU. We’re getting another patient, his workup got lost in the chaos. They just finished closing him up an hour ago.”

“What’s his story?”

“Subdural hematoma, various internal bleeds, and a traumatic amputation below the left knee. They took him into surgery to tie off the bleeds and try to repair as much of the damage to his leg as they could.”

“Who’s the attending on his case?”

“Doctor Winters. She’ll probably be in to get him settled in a bit. They’re transferring him to our service in the next half hour.”

“Do you want me to take him on my schedule?”

“Two of mine are getting downgraded to medicine today, so I can take him. Can you help get him settled when he gets here, though?”

“No problem,” Kurt agrees, reaching over to silence the alarm that starts dinging at the main computer, checking quickly to see which room signaled it. “Let me know when you need me. Looks like Andrews pulled his leads again.”

Kurt doesn’t hear Katie’s response as he darts off towards room twelve to replace his patient’s EKG leads. He spends the next twenty minutes doing rounds on his patients, checking leads and drains and taking note of any changes. He’s just finishing up with the last patient on his schedule when he hears the doors to the ICU swing open, the sounds of a gurney being wheeled into the adjacent room. Capping off the syringe he used to administer a dose of morphine, Kurt tosses the needle in the sharps bin and pulls off his gloves, tossing them in the trash on his way into the next room.

He eases in next to the bed, helping Katie and the SICU orderly connect the EKG leads on the man’s chest to the monitors attached to the wall, grabbing the IV bag to hang it on the pole suspended above the bed. They move in carefully orchestrated maneuvers, a process they’ve fine-tuned after months of working together. Within minutes they’ve checked all of his drainage tubes and monitors, and Kurt ducks out to grab a blanket to tuck around him.

Returning with the standard white blanket he settles it over the soldier’s legs, startled when he feels nothing below his left knee. It takes his brain a minute to catch up to him, a minute before he remembers what Katie had said ( _traumatic amputation below the left knee_ ) and he instantly feels for the young soldier. Injuries like his are all too common in a military hospital, but Kurt will never get used to witnessing them.

Running a hand over the blanket to smooth it, Kurt finally looks to the head of the bed to take in the patient’s face. He realizes the young man can’t be much older than Kurt himself, might even be a year or two younger. He’s classically handsome beneath the bruises and bandages on his face, dark hair peeking out from under the white bandage that surrounds his head. His eyes are closed, eyelashes fanning across his bruised cheeks; his military-issue tags, clearly recently cleaned of dirt (and blood, Kurt thinks) sparkle on his chest.

Kurt’s helped care for countless soldiers in his two-plus years at Landstuhl, has seen women and men from all kinds of backgrounds come through the ICU. But something about the young man in the bed is vaguely familiar; something about his face Kurt recognizes but cannot place. He leans over to check the paperwork left behind by the SICU orderly and reads the name _Anderson, Blaine_ stamped across the top.

It’s an unfamiliar name, an unfamiliar surname, and Kurt thinks that it must be the similarity of the young man in the bed to his patients in the past that triggered his recognition. Shaking his head, Kurt reaches to adjust and check the IV line in Blaine’s arm, ensuring the drip is running smoothly before he takes his leave from the room, leaving Katie to finish Blaine’s admission paperwork.

Thoughts of the young soldier in bed eleven are driven from his mind as soon as he steps back into the hallway and is called into another patient’s room to help run a code blue. The rest of his shift passes in a blur of paperwork, medication adjustments, and daily cares, and Kurt barely has time to take a lunch for himself, let alone think of Blaine. It’s not until Kurt is finishing his last chart of the day, about to clock out, that he remembers how drawn he was to the young man.

With no real understanding of what he’s doing, Kurt finds himself standing just outside the door to room eight on his way to the locker room to grab his things. He expects to find Blaine alone, as their coma patients usually are, but is startled to find another young man in a wheelchair beside Blaine’s bed, his own leg encased in a cast, a recently sutured laceration stark across his temple.

“Hello?”

The man looks up, and Kurt sees that he’s Blaine’s age, Kurt’s own age. The man rolls back from the bed, Kurt’s presence startling him, and immediately begins apologizing.

“I’m so sorry, you must be here to run tests, right? They told me I could sit with him as long as I wasn’t in the way-“

“Please, don’t leave on my account,” Kurt reassures, walking fully into the room and taking a seat in the chair just next to the man’s wheelchair. “I’m not even his nurse, I just wanted to check on him before I left for the day. Are you a friend?”

“We’re in the same unit. Blaine was- _is_ -my closest friend over here. Sometimes I think he might as well be my brother.”

“You seem to care a lot about him,” Kurt offers, taking in the way the other man looks over at Blaine, concern and fear written all over his face. “You were in the same accident?”

The other man scoffs, shaking his head. “If you can call it an accident. We were almost out of there, too. They were sending us home in two months. We’ve made it almost two years out there, and two months before-well-“

Kurt doesn’t say anything- _can’t_ say anything-so he simply nods, his eyes drawn back to Blaine, resting peacefully in the bed. After a long moment he feels the other man’s eyes on him, and he turns back, raising an eyebrow.

“You said you weren’t his nurse. Are you-I mean it’s just kinda-“

“I’m not officially on his case, no. I was here when they admitted him to the unit. He just-there’s something so familiar about him, I wanted to-“

“The Anderson charm,” the other man says quietly, with a small smile. “Figures it would work even when he’s unconscious.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Blaine’s always been able to have that effect on people, strangers. Hell, the second I met him in basic I was drawn in. He’s a very charismatic person, and he cares about everyone. Like, actually cares, not just that veiled “be a good person” bullshit.”

“He seems like a wonderful young man.”

“He’s probably the best man I know.” There’s a quiet tone of bitterness in the man’s voice, and Kurt feels he’s overstayed his welcome. He goes to stand, turning one last time to face the man in the wheelchair.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, at least until visiting hours are over. The evening shift will probably be in shortly to take his vitals and check in on him, but they won’t bother you. I should probably be getting home, anyway.”

Kurt’s almost to the door when he’s stopped, the man in the wheelchair interrupting him.

“I didn’t get your name. I figure we’ll be here a lot of the time, as long as I’m here I’m going to come see him, you know? Let him know he’s not alone. It would be nice to have a friendly face.”

“I’m Kurt,” he offers, holding his hand out for the man to shake. “I’m in here six days out of seven, so chances are my face will be more than familiar.”

“Marcus,” the other man offers, returning Kurt’s handshake. He lets Kurt’s hand drop after a moment, offers a tired smile. “Thank you, Kurt. For caring about him.”

Kurt returns the smile, shrugging one shoulder.

“It’s my job,” he offers, quietly drawing the privacy curtain around Blaine’s bed as he leaves to allow Marcus the chance to be with Blaine in quiet.

\- - - -

Kurt has the next day off, and doesn’t wake until two in the afternoon. He spends the rest of his afternoon cleaning his small flat and catching up on the television he’s missed in the last week. He’s halfway through an episode of the latest _Top Model_ cycle when the stream starts skipping, and he loses his internet connection. With a sigh, Kurt closes his laptop, leaning back against his headboard and closing his eyes.

He has to be at Sugar’s in a couple hours for dinner, but he has just enough time for his thoughts to wander before he needs to get ready. Kurt finds himself thinking of Blaine, of the easy connection he’d felt even though the other man was unconscious. Marcus had been so enthusiastic about Blaine’s character, so open, that Kurt wants to know _more_ about Blaine.

He sees so many patients come through the ICU on a daily basis, and is only able to connect on a more personal level with some of them. Many of Kurt’s patients are unconscious for most of their stay under his care, and a small number of them too severely injured or ill to survive. He often has too many patients on his schedule to be able to really connect with any one patient.

But he still keeps letters and notes from the ones he has formed a connection with, remembers some of them as well as he remembers moments from his own childhood. Many of them did well, recovered and returned to the States, returned to the combat theater after a time. A few of them died in the hospital, with Kurt there to comfort them through their last moments.

It isn’t necessarily unusual for Kurt to feel a connection to his patients, especially when he is part of their lives for as long as he is, sometimes. Resolving to check on Blaine when he works again, Kurt stretches, letting himself fall asleep for a brief nap before he gets dressed to head to Sugar’s.  
\- - - - -

“How was the night?” Kurt asks as he clocks in for his shift, pulling his stethoscope from his locker and hanging it around his neck, replacing his lock. His colleague Brigid is just coming off shift, and she and Kurt like to share notes when they trade off with each other. “Anything happen?”

“We had one code, but other than that it was fairly quiet. Doctor Banfield wants to try to downgrade two of her patients today, they’ve been improving steadily for the last two days.”

“Lincroft and Banks?”

“Yup. Both of them are almost entirely off supplementary oxygen. Banfield wants to keep an eye on them for another couple hours before she takes them off constant monitoring.”

“Anything else to know?”

“That’s about it. Everyone’s stable and we don’t have any admissions coming in.”

“Thanks, Brigid. See you tonight?”

“Tonight’s my night off, thank the Lord. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Well in that case, have a nice break,” Kurt says as they both exit the locker room, Brigid heading to the hallway and Kurt to the nurse’s station. He quickly accesses and goes over his patient charts, noting any significant changes, then starts his morning cares.

“How was your day off, Kurt?” Katie asks when she catches him coming out of room nine, on her way into another patient’s room. “Do anything worthwhile?”

“Sleep, TV, and dinner with some friends.”

“Sounds like heaven,” Katie all but moans, eliciting a laugh from Kurt.

“Close to it. Hey, Katie, could I ask you something?”

“What’s up?”

“Your patient in eleven, Anderson? How is he doing?”

Katie sighs, scrubbing a hand over her face.

“He’s stable for now, but he’s kinda been all over the place the last couple days since he was admitted. Doctor Winters is worried about sepsis from the amputation, even though we’ve got him on broad-spectrum antibiotics. The swelling in his brain isn’t going down, either. It’s kinda like everything that could go wrong, has.”

“Jesus.”

“His friend hasn’t really left his side, either. Poor kid’s in so much pain but he says he won’t leave Blaine until he’s sure Blaine’s out of the woods.”

“Marcus? I met him the other day, seems like he really cares about Blaine.”

“Why the sudden interest in one of my patients?”

“I’m not really sure,” Kurt admits, shrugging. “Ever since we admitted him the other day he’s kinda been on my mind.”

“He is a handsome young man,” Katie admits, nudging Kurt with her elbow.

“Oh, God, Katie, not like that. He’s a _patient_ for God’s sake. I just-something about him seemed familiar but I don’t know him. I guess I’m just curious about why I thought I did.”

 “Well, he’s doing about as well as we can hope for now. We sent Marcus back to his room on the eighth floor, so there’s no one in there now, if you wanted to stop in.”

“Wouldn’t that be overstepping?”

“Overstepping what, Kurt? You’re a nurse, he’s a patient. It’s not unnatural for you to care. Listen, if you sit with him when you’re not officially on shift, no one will bat an eyelash.”

“Katie-“

They’re interrupted by an alarm sounding in a room across the ward, and all thoughts of Blaine or propriety are driven from Kurt’s mind as they race to see what’s wrong. The rest of his shift passes quickly, Kurt darting from room to room as he cares for his patients. As he’s replacing his stethoscope in his locker, Kurt remembers Katie’s advice from earlier.

Still unsure why he’s so drawn to Blaine, Kurt finds himself heading back in the direction of the ward instead of his apartment, his feet carrying him to Blaine’s room. He’s surprised to find that Marcus isn’t there, and the chair beside Blaine’s bed is empty. Pulling it closer, Kurt settles in, his eyes trailing over Blaine’s legs to rest on his face. It feels somewhat odd to talk to an empty room, but Kurt decides to introduce himself.

“So, uh-Blaine. You don’t know me, really. I’m a nurse here, at the hospital you’re in right now. My name’s Kurt. Wow, this is really weird, isn’t it? You don’t even know me and I’m in here talking to you and you can’t respond.”

He trails off, his fingers twitching in his lap. He wants to reach forward and take Blaine’s hand, something he’s done with so many other patients, but something stops him, so he rests his hand on the edge of the bed.

“I’m not sure why I’m here, actually. When you came in it was like I knew you, that somehow I recognized you from some other part of my life. Which is crazy, isn’t it? I don’t know you, I’ve never seen you before. Oh, God, I’m rambling. Well, I mean-it’s not really like this is a conversation anyway, is it? So is that still rambling?”

He finds himself watching Blaine’s face for some recognition that Kurt knows is impossible because Blaine’s comatose, and he continues.

“We’re around the same age, actually. Well, according to your admission bracelet I’m actually three months older than you. But no one’s really counting, are they? God, this is awkward. I’m sorry. I’m just going to-“

“You should stay.”

There’s a quiet voice at the door that interrupts Kurt’s rambling, and he turns to see Marcus wheeling himself into the room, coming to rest opposite Kurt on Blaine’s other side.

“I’m sorry, I’m intruding-“

“He’d like you, you know,” Marcus smiles, motioning for Kurt to sit back down. “I think he’d find you endearing.”

Kurt flushes bright red, folding his hands in his lap as he picks at a loose thread on his scrubs.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Kurt. It’s just-God, I wish you could see him awake. He lights up an entire room when he’s in it, can make even the angriest person smile. It’s just-it’s really hard for me, to see him like this.”

“It’s always hard,” Kurt says quietly, thinking of his own father’s illness, the hours he spent at Burt’s bedside in high school. “If you love someone, you never want to see them hurt like this. Vulnerable.”

“ _God_ ,” Marcus breathes, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I’m so upset right now.”

“Because you’ve been through a serious trauma, and your best friend is still in danger. It’s okay to be emotional, Marcus. Hell, I could never do what you do every day, I’d never want to. No one’s going to look down on you for feeling upset.”

“I just-this wasn’t supposed to happen. We were two months from home. _Two months_. Why now? What did he do wrong for this to happen? What did any of us do wrong?”

Kurt knows Marcus isn’t looking for an answer, so he doesn’t offer one, but simply sits quietly to let Marcus express himself.

“I shouldn’t be unloading this on you. I’m sorry, I-”

“Marcus, _please_. Don’t apologize. Not to me, and not here. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Marcus wipes at his eyes again, chuckling wetly as he looks up at Blaine’s face.

“You know, my fiancée jokes that Blaine and I should be the ones getting married when we get back stateside. She loves him as much as I do. They let me call her yesterday, but I couldn’t even tell her that Blaine’s-that he’s here. It’s like saying it to someone else, someone who isn’t here would make it real.”

He shrugs, reaching forward to take Blaine’s hand in his.

“At least if I don’t say it, it still feels a little like a dream, you know? I keep thinking I might wake up in my bunk and this was all a nightmare.”

He squeezes Blaine’s hand and meets Kurt’s eyes.

“I wish this was a nightmare.”

\- - - - -

Kurt spends the next three days in a whirlwind of work and talking to Blaine. He easily falls into a routine, finishing his shift and settling into a chair in Blaine’s room, sometimes with Marcus, sometimes alone.

He tells Blaine about his childhood, growing up in Ohio, when he learns from Marcus that they’re both from Columbus. He tells Blaine about his mother, about being raised by a single father until high school. He spends an hour telling Blaine about Burt’s heart attack and hospitalization, how sitting with him in the hospital and seeing the nurses care for him planted the seed that led Kurt to nursing school.

He talks with Marcus about what brought him to Germany, why he applied for the job when he could’ve stayed in the States, worked in any hospital in Ohio or even New York. He talks about wanting to see the world, about how growing up in small-town Ohio had never afforded him a chance to leave the country. He talks about what it’s like to be a civilian working in a military hospital, how hard it was for him to get used to the structure and order that permeates everything.

But he doesn’t tell Blaine about coming out in high school, about the bullying or the pain or the constant shame he faced. He’s out to his co-workers and friends, sure, but he’s a civilian nurse in a military hospital in the wake of a recently repealed Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, and he’s always somewhat wary.

Kurt’s just finishing up his story about teaching the football team the Single Ladies dance when Marcus arrives, his face marred by a frown.

“What’s up?” Kurt asks when Marcus finally settles, his fingers gripping the arms of his wheelchair tightly. “Marcus?”

“They’re sending me back. In two days.”

“But that’s good news, isn’t it?” Kurt asks, even though he can tell that Marcus isn’t happy. “You’re going home.”

“Without Blaine.”

“Marcus-”

“I’m just-I get to go home, back to my fiancée and my life and he _doesn’t_. What about this is fair?”

“It isn’t,” Kurt says quietly, reaching over to grasp Marcus’ knee. “Nothing about this is fair. This whole situation is fucked. But from what you’ve told me about him, Blaine wouldn’t want you to keep sitting here at his side when you could go home, be with Marissa. You know that’s not what he’d want.”

“I just don’t want to leave him here alone,” Marcus whispers, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against his chair. “I don’t want him to wake up alone.”

“He’s not alone,” Kurt reassures, squeezing Marcus’ knee. “I’ll be here. I promise to you, I will not let him wake up alone.”

“You don’t even know him.”

“I don’t need to, Marcus. He’s heard my entire life story, and you’ve told me about him. And even if you hadn’t, it’s my job to care about the people on this ward, the people I take care of. I love doing this job, and I promise to you that I will not let him be alone.”

Marcus is silent for a long while, taking in Kurt’s words. He takes in a shuddery breath, before opening his eyes to look at Kurt.

“If I gave you my email address, would you-could you let me know if- _when_ -he wakes up?”

“Of course,” Kurt agrees, handing Marcus a pen and small piece of paper to write it down. “He’s going to come through this, you know. He’s going to come back to us.”

“I hope you’re right,” Marcus says. “I really hope you’re right.”

\- - - -

In the wake of Marcus’ return to the States, Kurt finds himself spending more time at Blaine’s side after his shifts. He still feels most days like he’s overstepping his boundaries, becoming too close to someone he has no connection to outside of the hospital, but the more he tells Blaine, the more connected he feels to him.

He finds that his comfort with Blaine, his ability to connect with him even though Blaine doesn’t respond, starts to make him more acutely aware of forming connections with his other patients. He finds himself spending extra time sitting with them when he can spare it, offering a willing ear to listen or a comforting presence when all he can do is be there for them.

In the middle of Blaine’s second week in ICU, one of Kurt’s patients rapidly decompensates and codes, and Kurt ends up at Blaine’s room when he seeks to be alone, to process what happened. He spends most of the time quiet, thinking, trying to understand the reality that death is a part of his job, no matter how terrifying that prospect is, no matter how many times he’s had to face it.

“You know, I always thought, back when my dad was in the hospital and things looked really bad-I never thought he would actually die. Like, it was in the back of my mind, and it was always a possibility, but it never seemed a real one. It’s just so strange to me, really, that I still can’t quite face that reality. I mean, it’s a fact of my job and it’s a fact of life, but it never gets easier. And I don’t think it should. I mean, if it got easier, that would be like saying we were getting used to it, wouldn’t it? I can’t imagine that either of us have gotten used to this. Blaine-”

Kurt trails off, watching Blaine’s face carefully. He’s about to continue, sure he’d imagined it, when Blaine’s eyelids flutter again, his mouth falling open the slightest bit. Kurt’s on his feet in a second, resting a gentle hand on Blaine’s shoulder and leaning into Blaine’s line of sight.

“Blaine? Can you hear me?”

He slips a hand into Blaine’s, squeezes Blaine’s shoulder gently.

“Blaine, can you squeeze my hand if you can hear me?” He waits, patiently, his training overriding any emotion as he waits for a response. Slowly, tentatively, Blaine’s fingers curl around Kurt’s, his grip weak and uncoordinated but undeniably voluntary.

“Blaine, can you open your eyes?” Kurt keeps both hands where they are, keeping a tactile connection to Blaine as he watches the other man’s face. Slowly, Blaine’s eyelids flutter again, and slide open, and it takes several seconds for clarity to dawn in his eyes.

Blaine opens his mouth to speak, closes it again. Kurt settles himself more fully in Blaine’s line of site, trying to draw his attention.

“Blaine? Blaine, look at me. There you go, that’s great. Blaine, my name is Kurt, I’m a nurse, and you’re in the hospital, okay? I’m just going to grab one of my colleagues from the hall, but you’re not alone. You’re okay.”

Kurt moves toward the door to flag down another nurse, but Blaine tightens his grip on Kurt’s hand, keeps him at his bedside.

“Blaine?”

“I remember your voice,” Blaine whispers, his voice harsh and grating from underuse. Kurt is momentarily stunned, frozen, so Blaine continues, keeping Kurt’s hand in his. “I don’t-” he swallows painfully, blinking quickly to clear his thoughts, “I don’t know why. I remember your voice.”

Kurt is at a loss for words, unable to offer anything in response. He merely squeezes Blaine’s hand back, repeats that he needs to get someone else, and goes into the hallway, flagging down Blaine’s nurse.

“He’s awake,” Kurt offers when he gets Brigid’s attention. “He woke up a few minutes ago. He seems relatively coherent but I haven’t actually done anything except talk to him briefly. Could you-?”

“I’ve got it,” Brigid says, heading into Blaine’s room, introducing herself to him gently but firmly, explaining to him that he’s in the intensive care unit and the hospital, that he’s been injured but is being taken care of. Kurt stays outside while she comforts and examines Blaine, and is somewhat shocked to find that his hands are shaking.

He knows that many people say coma patients can hear you, can understand you even while they are unconscious, but he’s never quite experienced anything like this. He’s still lost in thought when Brigid leaves the room, a tired smile on her face.

“He’s definitely disoriented, but he seems to have very little amnesia surrounding the accident or immediately before. I need to contact Doctor Winters to let her know, would you mind staying with him for a bit? I know you’re off, but-”

“I don’t mind,” Kurt replies, already heading back into Blaine’s room. He finds Blaine blinking slowly as he looks around the room, cataloguing the various machines he’s currently attached to, the tubing carrying fluid into and away from his body. He carefully flexes his fingers as Kurt watches, brings them to his temple to feel the bandage still wrapped tightly around his head.

“What-“

“You had a pretty severe head injury, from the accident. Kinda like a concussion, but a little worse. You’ve been asleep for awhile, Blaine.”

“There was a bomb,” Blaine whispers, closing his eyes as his head falls back against the pillow. “Other side of the road. But we couldn’t-” his eyes fly open and he looks frantically at Kurt, suddenly worried. “Marcus?”

Kurt crosses quickly to Blaine’s side, resting a hand on his arm.

“Marcus is fine, Blaine. He didn’t leave your side for three days. They sent him back to the states to finish recovering.”

“My unit?”

“I’m not sure, I only had a chance to meet Marcus. I’m sorry, Blaine.”

“Not your fault,” Blaine replies, letting his head fall back to the pillow again as he trains his glance to the wall of the room.

“Blaine?”

“I don’t know you, but I remember your voice. Why?”

Kurt takes his familiar chair by Blaine’s bed, unsure what to do with his hands, where to put them. He settles for sitting on them, watching Blaine’s profile as the other man stares to the side, not really looking at anything in particular.

“I’ve been here with you nearly every day,” Kurt replies, watching for Blaine’s response. “Talking to you, sitting with you.”

Blaine rolls his head on the pillow to look at Kurt, his face scrunched up in concentration. He bites his lip as he considers what he wants to say, his eyes flicking up to meet Kurt’s.

“Kurt.”

“I introduced myself to you when you woke up, yeah. I’m Kurt.”

“Thank you,” Blaine whispers, the second word cut off by a yawn. “For not leaving me alone.”

Kurt smiles when he realizes Blaine is smiling at him as well, even though his face betrays how exhausted he is by the effort to continue staying awake and alert. Kurt reaches forward, slips his hand into Blaine’s again and squeezes gently.

“Get some rest, Blaine,” he says quietly, waiting until Blaine’s drifted back to sleep before he extracts his hand. He settles back in his chair, a sense of peace he hasn’t felt in weeks settling over him as Blaine sleeps peacefully.

\- - - - -

“So you grew up in Westerville?” Kurt says with a smile, reaching to hand Blaine the cup of water he’d been reaching for. “Literally forty-five minutes from my hometown.”

“What are the chances, right?” Blaine returns, taking a long sip from the water. They’re sitting in Blaine’s shared room on the medical floor, a day after Blaine’s release from the ICU and downgraded status. They’ve spent the three days since Blaine woke up talking in quiet voices, Blaine mostly too exhausted to manage conversations longer than ten minutes.

“Where did you go to high school?”

“Dalton Academy -- the private school? I was in their glee club, too.”

“I was in McKinley’s club!” Kurt says excitedly, all too aware that his voice goes up an octave in his excitement. “I wonder if we ever competed against each other?”

“Who knows, right? God, that was so long ago, wasn’t it? High school?”

They’re both quiet for a moment, suddenly sober. They’ve mostly avoided talking about serious subjects, a blessing due to Blaine’s limited periods of lucidity, but the serious issues hang heavy between them when they meet like this.

Kurt had been there when Blaine was told about his leg, had watched Blaine process the information and completely shut down when he understood. He’d been there when Blaine realized most of his unit was severely wounded as well, and several of them had died. He’d sat with Blaine as Blaine tried to process how much had changed and happened, but neither of them was keen on stirring the pot, no matter how clear it was that Blaine wasn’t really processing or dealing.

“We’re both still young, Blaine. That doesn’t have to change.”

“I feel like I’ve aged fifteen years in the span of a month,” Blaine says quietly, and Kurt suddenly wants to take Blaine in his arms, hide him from the pain and the suffering and take it away. He settles for resting a hand on Blaine’s elbow, offering a quiet show of support.

“I’m not saying this is easy, Blaine. I wouldn’t trivialize a single thing you’ve been through. But I think you, from what I’ve heard about you and what I’ve seen knowing you these few short days, will be okay. You’re a remarkable person, Blaine Anderson.”

“How do you do that?” Blaine asks, his face breaking into a tiny smile as he regards Kurt. “You know, you’re the kind of guy I would’ve asked for a hypothetical coffee date back in my high school days. You’re one of a kind, Kurt.”

“Blaine?”

“I hid for so many years, through high school and even when I enlisted at first. Don’t ask, don’t tell, right? I’m done hiding. I don’t need to anymore, and I don’t want to. I have enough to get used to dealing with now, and I’m not going to add that.”

After a long pause, both of them left to their thoughts, Kurt leans forward to take Blaine’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

“And you, Blaine, are exactly the kind of guy I’d have accepted that hypothetical coffee date from.”

They fall back into easy conversation, neither of them willing to let go of the other’s hand.

\- - - -

_Epilogue_

Blaine is transferred two weeks later to Walter Reed in Texas to finish his recovery, where he’s met by his brother, Marcus, and his parents. He starts to learn how to navigate with crutches, and is fitted for a prosthesis. He works daily with both a physical therapist and a counselor, trying to open up about his experience and the way it affected him.

Kurt, for his part, seriously considers his father’s suggestion to come back to the States, and applies for a transfer to the VA hospital in Columbus. He ends up moving back to Ohio exactly three years after starting his job at Landstuhl.

He keeps in touch with both Blaine and Marcus, keeping tabs on Blaine’s recovery in Texas as the latter works to gain physical strength, eventually getting cleared to return to Ohio to continue his therapy. Kurt pulls a few strings in the physical medicine and rehabilitation department and finds out that Blaine has an appointment for physical therapy late one afternoon.

He waits outside the therapy room while Blaine finishes, watching with pride as Blaine walks unassisted across the room, the only visible signs of his ordeal the prosthetic leg he wears and the fading scar on his temple. Just as Blaine’s finishing, Kurt slips into the room, into Blaine’s line of sight.

“Hey stranger,” he says quietly, drawing Blaine’s attention. The latter looks up, his face breaking into a wide grin as he quickly crosses the room, drawing a surprised Kurt into a hug.

“I never thought I’d see you here,” Blaine says when they break apart, keeping a hand on Kurt’s arm, refusing to break contact. “You never said you left Germany.”

“It was time for a scenery change,” Kurt replies with a shrug, looking Blaine up and down. “You look fantastic, Blaine.”

“I feel fantastic,” Blaine replies, smiling brightly.

“So I was wondering,” Kurt begins, jamming his free hand into his pocket to keep his fingers from restlessly moving, “Would I be able to take you up on that hypothetical coffee date?”

_Fin._


End file.
